A Matter of Trust
by storybookpen
Summary: One way things could end, based on various conspiracy theories. Three years down the line, Red catches up to his adversary and attempts to take the ultimate revenge by killing Elizabeth Keen. Liz/Red


Disclaimer: I don't own _The Blacklist_. It's fun to play around in this new sandbox, though.

* * *

This is how things end for them, three years and countless cases after Red first spoke Elizabeth Keen's name to Director Cooper: a dank cellar, Lionel Gellar, and Red holding a gun to Liz's head and meaning it.

Liz stands very still, her eyes locked with Gellar's. The muzzle of the gun grinds painfully into her right temple. Red's free arm is wrapped around her body, holding her against him. She can feel his breath against her ear.

"I'm sorry about this, Lizzy," Red says.

It was only days before that Red came to her with the startling, seemingly impossible news that they had crossed every name off the blacklist except for one. The very first name. Lionel Gellar. Terrorist, arms dealer, assassin for hire-Red's crueler counterpart, with bloodier hands. His adversary.

At the time, they had never discussed Gellar, but three years of close companionship with Red enabled her to piece together a better picture than he suspected. She knew that Red had had a wife and daughter. She knew that in 1990 Red had been a rising star in the U.S. Navy, destined for the admiralty. She knew that in 1990 Red disappeared only days before his daughter vanished as well, never to be seen from again. She knew there was a picture missing from the Stewmaker's scrapbook that would slot into that time period. She knew who was most likely responsible.

And now, looking at Gellar, she knows something else, too. She knows, at last, why Red chose her.

"Reddington, you son of a bitch," Gellar growls, a submachine gun held loosely in his hands. "Don't you hurt my daughter."

Red laughs viciously. She can almost imagine that his arm around her body is meant to protect rather than immobilize. "Your daughter! A strange claim to make considering you abandoned her when she was four years old."

"You know why I had to leave her," Gellar says. "You and your naval intelligence buddies were on to me. I'd have been as little use to her in a jail cell as I would be at large."

The pressure of the gun against her head loosens ever so slightly. "Perhaps," Red concedes. "However, if you'd gone to jail as you should have, you would never have done the things you did later. You wouldn't have hurt _me_. And so dear Lizzy would never have come to my attention."

Enough. Liz knows enough now, and she has no interest in being the rope in a game of tug of war between two master criminals.

"If you're going to shoot me, Red," she says softly, "then shoot me."

He stiffens.

"Beth, shut up," Gellar says.

She ignores him. He isn't important, not at this moment. "Apparently I never meant anything to you," she goes on, speaking only to Red. "You spent three years cultivating me like some kind of exotic plant, molding me, nurturing me, protecting me, but I guess it was all so you could get revenge on a man I haven't seen since he popped into my life for one day when I was fourteen years old to brand my arm. That makes sense. So kill me now, if that's what you're going to do, because if that's what you're going to do I don't want to spend another second breathing the same air as you."

Betrayal bubbles and surges within her, driving away any fear she should be feeling. Since she lost Tom, Red has been her rock. Her closest companion. Someone she has turned to and who, in turn, has turned to her on more than one occasion. If, after all that, she really is only a pawn to him, then she means what she says. He'd better kill her.

Red still hasn't spoken. His body is rigid behind hers, his breathing ragged as he struggles with indecision.

"Maybe my death isn't enough," Liz says softly. "I mean, you want him to really suffer, right? So maybe there needs to be some torture first. Something to draw it out so the fun doesn't end too quickly. I mean, the other times you've seen me hurt you didn't seem all that amused about it, but maybe the situation is different now. Or maybe those other times you were laughing inside."

_That_ gets a reaction. "You know I wasn't," Red murmurs. "Stop trying to provoke me, Lizzy. You always knew I was playing a long-term game. You always knew you wouldn't like the ending."

"You're right," she snaps, letting out a little of the anger she's feeling. "Getting killed by someone who cares about me in order to punish someone who thinks of me as a prized head of cattle isn't an ending I like. It _sucks_."

"I always cared, Beth," Gellar protests, taking a step forward. He's a handsome man, a little older than Red, dressed, inexplicably, in military fatigues. He has Liz's eyes. "Reddington's the one who forced me on the run, and he's the reason I had to stay away. That burn kept you safe for years from people like Reddington-people like me-who might have thought to use you as leverage. I did what I could for you, sweetheart."

She shakes her head and takes her own step forward, forcing Red to move with her or lose his grip. "And Red's daughter?" she demands. "Why did she deserve to die?"

Gellar looks at Red, over her shoulder, and behind his eyes she cannot see a soul. "Reddington forced me away from my family. I returned the favor."

Liz feels tears sting her eyes, but she doesn't cry. She's always known her father was a monster. She reaches up and jerks the gun out of Red's hand. It's luck or reflexes that he manages to pull his finger off the trigger in time to keep from inadvertantly shooting her, but she doesn't bother thinking about that now.

Holding the gun by the barrel, she stalks across the room and pistol whips her father across the face, sending him to the ground in a semi-conscious heap. She spins on her heel, catching sight of Red's face for the first time since they entered the cellar. He's staring at her as if he's never seen her before.

Growling, she shoves the gun back into his hand. "I'm leaving," she says. "Shoot me in the back if you really think that's something you have to do."

She storms toward the stairs. Two steps up there is a gunshot. By the top step, Red has caught up to her.

Ressler, Cooper, Meera, and a million police cars are just pulling up as Liz and Red walk outside.

"Downstairs," Red tells Ressler, which is all the agent needs to send him sprinting toward the cellar.

Cooper and Meera watch but don't react as Red steers Liz in the direction of his car with his hand at the small of her back.

"I don't want to stick around for the clean up," Liz says, feeling hollow.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, drops a kiss on her hair. She wonders where the gun went. "You knew I wouldn't shoot you," he says, a faint, wondering note in his voice. "How could you be sure?"

She gives him a look. Despite her exhaustion, she has it in her to be exasperated. "You love me, Red."

He clears his throat. It's probably the lights from the police cars, but he might, just possibly, be blushing. "I hadn't thought you were aware of that fact."

She wraps her arm around his waist. "That's because, for a very smart man, you can be a real idiot sometimes." She tilts her face to his neck and for several long seconds breathes his scent. It soothes her. "Now come on," she says at last, reluctantly pulling away. "I want to go home, and you're my ride."

He smiles at her, and there is a boyish light in his gaze that she has never seen from him before. "Anything for you, Lizzy."

They both know he means it.

This is how things begin for them, three years and countless cases after Red first spoke Elizabeth Keen's name to Director Cooper: a dank cellar, Lionel Gellar, Red holding a gun to Liz's head and meaning it, and Liz knowing, without a smidgen of a doubt, exactly how this all has to end.


End file.
